


Do You Regret It?

by baby_bibibi



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Apologies, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 02:59:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15305955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baby_bibibi/pseuds/baby_bibibi
Summary: Michael never got over what happened during the ‘Squipcident’. After the play, the subject never came up again. But it was always in mind- the way Jeremy threw away their friendship for a girl.And one day, he lets it get to him.





	Do You Regret It?

_**“Get out of my way.”** _

Michael slammed the door to his basement shut. He stumbled over to the center of the room, collapsing as he fell to his knees.

_**“Loser.”** _

He lifted a hand to cover his mouth. Tears streamed down his cheeks, eyelids sealing shut as he attempted to muffle the sound of his jagged sobs.

_**“Optic Nerve Blocking: On.”** _

He tossed it all away. Like it was nothing. Just because of some girl. Just to be ‘popular.’ He was so eager to throw Michael away like he was nothing. And…

_**“I don't care.”** _

And he couldn't blame him.

Michaels gaze lifted, landing on the reflective surface of his television. The sight before him was disgusting. He hated it- He hated everything about it. About him.

His glasses hung loosely on his nose, a red hue coating his face despite his tan complexion. Tears ghosted at his cheeks, his eyes were a deep red, and there was a small glimpse of snot beneath his nose.

He wiped at his face, head shaking as his glasses finally fell to the ground. His vision was blurred, even more so than usual. It was no wonder Jeremy left him.

Jeremy would always refer to them as losers. As nobodies. Nothing was ever enough for him…

Michael was never enough for him.

He wanted more than just Michael. He wanted to be somebody. He wanted friends who actually mattered. No matter what Michael would say, how many times he would try and reassure him, it was never enough.

Michaels eyes narrowed at what little pieces he had been able to analyze in his reflection. He hated that man. That boy. That boy who was never enough. That boy who was always too weak for his best friend.

Michaels hands twitched. He began to grit his teeth together, brows stitching together. The longer he stared, the angrier he became. He found himself shifting closer to the tv, breaths turning to heaved grunts before he found himself slamming his fist into the glass. 

Glass shards sprung away from the tv as a result. Small reflective pieces scattered across the ground, and Michael was too focused on his shattered reflection to feel the pain itching his hand. A trail of blood trickled along what was left of the screen, finally catching his attention.

Michael retracted his fist, hearing a deafening beating in his ears, blocking out whatever other noise there was. Spots of red decorated his fist, scattered over his knuckles. There were small glimpses within the blood- miniature glass pieces shining a light in his eyes.

Drops of blood dripped onto the ground, forming a small pool beneath him. He felt tears continue to sting his eyes, and just like that, he felt any part of him that had formerly cared wilt away.

He didn't hear his basement door swing open. He didn't notice when his best friend began to scream at him.

He didn't care until he felt the fabric of his hoodie dampen. His eyes lowered, fixating on the boy in front of him as he felt panic set inside of him.

When did Jeremy get there? Why was he here? Why was he crying?

Questions flooded his mind as he found himself slowly returning the embrace. Jeremy was shaking in his grasp, gentle sniffs coming from him. The two sat there in silence, nothing but quiet sobs echoing off the walls.

That is, until Michael found one last question roll off of his tongue.

“Jeremy. Did… Did you ever regret it?”

He listened as Jeremy's breathing had come to a complete halt. The boy backed out of the hug, hands rested on the Filipinos shoulders.

“Did you ever regret blocking me out?”

Jeremy seemed stunned. His lips parted to say something- anything- but nothing came out. Nothing but a choked sob.

Michael felt his heart sink. Jeremy looked shattered, and he went and dropped a question like that on him. He pressured him. It was all his fault. Why couldn't he be more sensitive-

“Yes..”

Michael was pulled from his thoughts, blinking away any stray tears that threatened to surface. “Yes, I- I did…”

“At the time… H- He made it seem like it wasn't so bad… But- But once everything went back to normal, I thought about it m- more and more. About what I did to you… How I treated you…”

Michael felt Jeremy tremble as more words escaped his lips. He had his head hanging low, before he managed to meet Michaels eyes, the sclera portion of his eyes a bright red. “I- I’m so sorry, Micah-”

Michael stared at him a moment longer. Jeremiah Heere was his best friend for twelve years, and even after everything… He couldn't bring himself to stay mad. Not after this. Not after seeing the mess before him.

He wrapped his arms around his friend, pulling him close as his eyelids sealed together. By now, the two had gradually calmed down, their shaking reduced to a minimum.

Now it was just them in the basement. Glass shards scattered across the floor, blood trails going along their clothing, tears ghosting their cheeks and nothing but gentle breathing sounding out through the room.

It was just Michael and Jeremy… A Player One completed with his Player Two.

And for a sweet, blissfully peaceful second, everything was alright.


End file.
